


Let It Go

by bukkunkun



Category: Frozen (2013), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Ice Skating, Movie Reference, Snow and Ice, also hello i'm baaaack, ifdk this story is to gen for me to taaaaag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 17:25:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey, I know I’m not the best person to hand out advice around, but you know, for things to get better, you should just let it go.” He paused, “Whatever it is holding you down, anyway.”</p><p>She chuckled a little and tucked a loose lock of hair back. “It’s not really that easy.”</p><p>He shrugged, “Sometimes things are just that easy, I think. If you’re sad, you should just,” he gestured vaguely with his hands, “Well, let it go.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let It Go

**Author's Note:**

> Frozen/RotG movie fusion. Dedicated to [Japhers](japhers.tumblr.com) at Tumblr for posting things on Facebook that made me miss RotG. 
> 
> Inspired by [his art](http://japhers.tumblr.com/post/69643357309/genderbent-crossover-au-sketches) and the [Let It Go sequence](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=moSFlvxnbgk) in the movie, and then kinda bullshitted at the end. Sorry, fandom. It's been a while since I wrote for RotG, cut me some slack!
> 
> Headcanon building, even a year after? Why not! Jack can 'hear' the sound of joy and despair, so he knows where to go to spread fun, and knows when he's done a job well done.
> 
> Enjoy!

The wind always took him where it knew where he would be needed.

It wasn’t a duty, just a feeling he always wanted to satiate, something he always had the urge to do since… _ever_ , really.

There were never any cries for him, no silent whispers at midnight from determined eyes waiting for invisible visitors, or searching ones that were bright and curious as they peeked for hidden treasures in the trees or bushes, or tucked-away flashlights for those elusive pairs of wings and swift, silent fingers, but he could _hear_ it—that _sound_ only he could hear, one that accompanied the crackling of ice as it grew from his fingers, from his staff, his toes, his skin—from _him_ , from whatever he was, and it was the only thing he knew that was his, and his alone, that one sole reason that he only barely knew was the reason he existed.

And he heard it, once, only once, as the wind whispered stories in his ear, and carried him through the clouds and beneath the wide, wide moon, as his eyes widened, crystalline blue against the darkness all around him, as he shifted, stilled in the air, as he stopped the thundering in his ears and let the world pour in that singular sound he followed all over.

It was loud—screeching, pained, burning cold, and he vaguely wondered when he had last heard that painful, painfully familiar sound before.

(It was after; when he first woke up, and he hadn’t realised that it had been coming from _him_.)

He looked at the wind, blowing around him, sensing the distress, and confusion filled his face as it churned around him, turbulent, angry—

 _Scared_.

(That wind was back, he will realise later on, leaning on violet ice beneath crystal chandeliers and surrounded with snow, that one that carried him around the night he came to be, after he realised _what_ he was—how isolated he was.)

He looked down at the land beneath his feet—it was one he was familiar with, one with winters of soft, soft snow he poured from his heart and fingers, winters with laughing children and fond, smiling parents, tall, tall mountains with frost constant like a second home to him, as he looked down on that beautiful seaside kingdom.

He remembered that place well—whatever was the matter there?

The wind sharply changed its angle, urgent, as if panicked, and he dropped like a stone, and he let out a yell, his tattered cloak flapping wildly above him as he fell, frost flying there and here around him as his mind went haywire—

And he landed heavily on the mountainside, wind blowing around him cold, bitter, and he frowned as he got up, confused at how… sad the cold was. Where were the smiles? Where was the laughter? The fun? That happy, bell-like sound that he had learned to associate with joy, with fun?

Now, all he could hear was his old friend howling in what sounded like despair— _fear_ —and ringing in his ears was the sound he never liked hearing when he closed his eyes whenever and dreamt of darkness, of not knowing, of always wishing he knew _why_.

He walked onward in the storm of frost and snow, unhindered, not bothered by the only thing he knew of since he came to be. Clutching his staff close to himself he walked on calmly, trusting the wind to keep him grounded, as he walked on. The ringing in his ear grew louder, and louder, and he wondered how he could stay so strong, so undaunted, until he heard a voice, melancholic, pained, scared— _despaired_.

His eyes widened. Yes, _that’s_ what the noise was—despair. The exact opposite of joy.

He ran forward, breath short not because of exertion, but of panic, of realisation, as the snow parted in front of him, frost and snowflakes moving aside like a reverent wave to reveal a young woman standing in the cold, dressed too lightly for a storm like this—a beautiful dress pools on the ground beneath her, the edges catching frost, stark white against a shade of green-blue that reminded him of the ocean. Her cloak, heavy on her shoulders and of the most royal violet he had ever seen, almost matching the sheen he saw on the Tooth Fairy’s feathers, trailed behind her in the snow, dragging a path behind her, and over her footmarks, telling him of how she had walked to this peak all by herself.

His eyes widened and he rushed to her where he could hear her voice, broken and pained, speak out into the wind.

“Don’t let them in, don’t let them see, be the good girl you always had to be,” she was saying, and he frowned, rushing to catch up to her.

“And what, end up sad and lonely?” he spoke up, unused to hearing himself as the voice of reason. It was oddly loud and it stung with a sharp clarity that left crackling frost on his cold tongue.

The young woman jolted and she spun around to look at him, her blonde bangs whipping in the wind, and her eyes—blue, so very _blue_ , just like the gem in her crown or her cloak’s clip, just like his own eyes, mirrored his surprise when they locked on to each other.

“I thought I was alone.” She said, her voice barely a hoarse whisper, but he heard it clearly anyway, as the wind around them died down a little, as if coinciding with her odd sense of relief.

His eyes widened.

“Who might you be?” she asked, all business yet curious, every inch the royal she looked like, and he realised she was missing a glove, but none of that mattered right now, not when she was looking right at him, and that _chill_ that wasn’t from the cold—the cold never bothered him, anyway—ran through him.

She could _see_ him.

“Y-you could see me?” he stammered, and she nodded, more awed than confused.

“Am I not supposed to?” she asked, and he shrugged.

“Not really, no,” he replied, and the saddest half-smile crossed her face.

“Then you’re always alone.” She said, and he could hear the ‘ _me too_ ’ that went unsaid.

“Always,” he replied, feigning casualness as he spun his staff in his hand and brought it behind his back. “I’m Jack. Jack Frost.”

“My name is Elsa,” she replied, casting a long glance at the lights in the distance behind him, and Jack turned to look at what she was looking at—it was that seaside kingdom he visited in their winter. “Queen of Arendelle.”

He blinked, and turned back to face her. “You must be cold.” He said, gesturing at her bare hand, and an odd snort that sounded like bitter laughter escaped Elsa.

“The cold doesn’t bother me.” She said, holding out her bare hand, and the barest hint of snowflakes and ice flew from it in little wisps.

Jack’s eyes widened and a smile crossed his face brightly. “Oh, hey,” he grinned, holding out his staff, and firing out a bolt of frost from the end. Elsa’s eyes widened as he grinned at her. “Looks like you’re not that alone after all.”

She turned around, hands clasped together, turning her head to let her hear him. “But my father had always told me to control this—conceal it, don’t feel, don’t let them know—”

Jack only smiled at her. From the looks of things, though, it seemed like she had failed hiding _whatever_ this beautiful power was, but why should she? Ice magic was _awesome_ , and he lived with it his whole not-really life.

“Well, now they know, right?” he asked, and she blinked at him. He smiled at her, holding out his hand and a glimmering snowflake rose from his palm and flew to Elsa’s face. She blinked at it, and it touched her nose, sprinkling lights into her eyes as the noise of despair died away in Jack’s ears, no longer roaring, instead replaced by the gentle croon of the beginnings of joy.

“Let it go.”

Elsa looked at him, and then at her hands, and a small smile began to cross her face.

“Let it go,” she breathed, pulling her glove off her hand and lifting it to the sky, Jack laughing as his old friend blew it away from her hand as she lifted her hands, letting the wisps of ice and snow rise from them, unhindered, beautiful, curving up to the sky as Jack raised his own staff and let the snow shower down on them in waves of soft flakes.

“Don’t hold it back anymore!” he grinned at her, and she did.

He watched her grow, shoot ice and tendrils of snowflakes and frost around her, until she grew ambitious, raising stairs of solid frozen crystal, tentatively climbing on it, before realising what she had done. She turned her head to grin at Jack, and he grinned back, and together, they built a bridge, up, up, up the cavernous space between mountains, until Elsa made it to the top, and with a grin that said, ‘watch _this_ ’ to Jack she stomped her foot onto the snow, sending a wave of frost out beneath their feet in the shape of a snowflake, and before his very eyes, wide with amazement and absolute _joy_ , Jack watched as Elsa built her own castle, from the ground up, all be herself, glorious, and perfect and wonderful.

He watched her work, build, sing—and he smiled.

She was having _fun_.

She utterly changed, transformed from the heartbroken queen to the free, happy ice magician she was, her hair let free and her clothes completely changed, and he couldn’t be any happier for her, no matter how much he wanted to burst and overflow with happiness for her.

When she had finished, calmed down a little, she and Jack settled on the balcony’s rails and looked at the setting sun.

“I built this,” she breathed, not looking at him but at how the light reflected from the ice.

“Yeah, you did,” Jack nodded, looking at the castle as well, “Didn’t know you had it in you, didn’t you?”

She chuckled a little and nodded. “I had no idea what I could do.”

“And here you are now.” He smiled, leaning back a little, enjoying the sound of happiness around him. She tucked a lock of hair back, and smiled freely.

“And here I am,” she agreed, sighing. “Everything’s so much better this way,” she continued, and Jack noticed the sound of happiness fading from his hearing. “All alone here, by myself.”

“Hey, you’re not alone,” he said, and she smiled.

“Oh, but you’ll leave too,” she said, “I know you—I see you, only on winters, when I was much younger, and more carefree.” Jack’s eyes widened and she looked down at her hands. “I think you only managed to make your way here because of my storm. But you’ll have to leave again, to bring snow elsewhere, right?”

Jack didn’t reply. It was the truth, after all.

Elsa gave him that sad little smile again, the one he knew wasn’t quite enough, but was worth the effort showing anyway, if not for reassurance.

Instead he grasped her shoulder sympathetically, and with a little sigh Elsa held his hand and squeezed it.

“I hope you’ll become happy anyway.” He told her softly. “You know, it’s what I live for. Happiness.”

She looked at him and nodded slowly, the spark of sincere happiness—albeit tiny, but still very clearly there—coming into her eyes a little bit she leant a little more over the banister to watch the sky turn orange.

“Hey, I know I’m not the best person to hand out advice around, but you know, for things to get better, you should just let it go.” He paused, “Whatever it is holding you down, anyway.”

She chuckled a little and tucked a loose lock of hair back. “It’s not really that easy.”

He shrugged, “Sometimes things are just that easy, I think. If you’re sad, you should just,” he gestured vaguely with his hands, “Well, _let it go_.”

She didn’t say anything, but he could hear the sadness fade a little away from her. He turned to look at the setting sun, and Jack saw the wind return to him, and his eyes widened. Elsa must have noticed it too, as she turned to look at him again.

“You’re going to leave.” She said, and Jack didn’t know what to say. He felt like this was a job half-done, but he knew he really couldn’t do anything about Elsa’s sadness—it was something too deep instilled in her, too far away for him to reach, too foreign for him to be dealing with himself.

Numbly, he nodded, and Elsa sighed, but stepped back and let him leave, letting the wind tousle her freed hair as Jack greeted his old friend once more.

There must be snow and ice elsewhere, she knew, it wasn’t like she could keep Jack with her all the time, no matter how alike they were—the only difference being, after all, was that she was alive and he was dead; but they were both such very lonely souls.

“I’ll come back soon, Elsa,” Jack told her reassuringly, “I promise.”

She smiled at him, sadly. “I’ll be right here, I guess.”

He smiled at her reassuringly, grin broken and awkward, but he gave her a little wave and let the wind carry him away.

He returned not too long after that, far too worried and concerned when he heard that pained noise again, much, much louder and hurt and scared and _alone_ than he had ever heard it that one time he was spreading snow on a mountain range, so he and the winds rushed to where he knew Elsa would be.

Her castle was gone, crushed at the bottom of the ravine beneath it.

There was a snow monster with it—still, cold, alone.

He was that moment of panic—of _fear_ , and he rushed to Elsa’s home, to Arendelle—

To find people laughing, cheering, singing in the streets, the gates of the castle wide open and filled with people in the courtyard—and, much to Jack’s surprise— _ice skating_ in the middle of summer, between fountains frozen into stunning sculptures that glimmered in the sunlight.

In the middle of it all—Elsa, smiling, beautiful and radiant as ever, all the sense of fear and loneliness gone from her and instead replaced with happiness, and joy, as she skimmed around the ice, holding the hands of a redhead with her hair in twin braids, teaching her how to skate.

He smiled, standing in the shadow of the walls around them, leaning against a pillar as he watched her laugh and smile, and his ears rang with the sound of happiness and joy and _fun_ all around him.

He was content enough to just stand there and watch them, but Elsa turned his way and saw him. Her eyes widened a little and she smiled at him, but didn’t wave—of course she wouldn’t, only she could see him, anyway—and instead entrusted the redhead to a blond man skating near them, giggling as the two stumbled together away from her.

She made her way to him, smiling, and he grinned at her.

“I see you’re doing better.”

“Much better.” She nodded, looking at the redhead with the blond. “My sister and I have… sorted things out.” She smiled a little and turned to him, “We’ve let things go.”

Jack grinned brightly at her. “That’s great.”

She gestured at the courtyard, filled with her subjects, all happy and having fun. “Everything’s alright now. I’m—I’m not alone anymore.”

Jack smiled a little at her, but she turned to him, a little frown on her lips. “But you, Jack,” she said, “You’re—”

“I’m okay,” he smiled, “It’s enough to help people have fun and spread winter everywhere for me.”

“You’re still not smiling fully, Jack.” Elsa uttered, but Jack shrugged.

“I’ll get by. There’s the other… guys like me, you know, out there. Fairy lady, big bunny, big guy, yellow guy…” he trailed off. He didn’t need to add the detail that they didn’t really pay attention to him. Elsa didn’t need that weight on her shoulders.

She bit her lip a little, but slowly nodded.

“Alright,” she replied, “But for today, this town is your friend, at least. Stay a little?” she asked, “Have fun a little? Be, you know, less alone?”

He looked at her, his eyes a little wide.

“Let it go, right?” she smiled, “The loneliness, at least a little.”

Jack slowly smiled, and he nodded. “Yeah, I guess.” She held out her hand to him, and he took it, chuckling a little. “I’ll let go—even just for a bit.”

She smiled, and pulled him close to her and pecked him on the cheek. His eyes widened a little, and frost spread across his cheeks, flustered and embarrassed, and Elsa merely smiled at him, before pulling him with her to skate with her with her sister and her own partner.

Only Elsa could see him, he thought, but by the end of the day, he knew the majority of that courtyard could see him, laughing along with him.

Letting go had never felt so right.

**Author's Note:**

> And for those asking about [Caged Bird](http://archiveofourown.org/works/587860), please don't, because I'm very unstable right now ~~getting diagnosed with a mental disorder does that to people, especially those not able to actually take meds for it~~ and any more questions will result in further delay of an update. Things are as bad as it is, and I'm sorry, but I've been very toxic and it took such a great effort to write this fic, and this isn't even that long. So please, bear with me.
> 
> Thank you for your kind consideration.


End file.
